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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29717751">unspeakable things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/amourdesoi/pseuds/amourdesoi'>amourdesoi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adrenaline, Blood, Blood Kink, Choking, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Wet &amp; Messy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:34:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29717751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/amourdesoi/pseuds/amourdesoi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She gently wrapped an arm around Daisy’s shoulders and helped her up to standing. Basira was wearing a white button-down shirt, which came away with a red print of Daisy on it. Well, many things could be irreparably ruined, and a shirt was the least of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>unspeakable things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>handwaved canon timeline. early s4 maybe?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The buzzer sounded around eleven while Basira was reading at the dinner table. She was shaken out of reverie by the noise. She’d taken the book home from the archives--a  thorny, unforgiving work of prophecy or madness she’d unearthed only by citation. After surfacing from a book like that she always felt a bit dazed. It took her a second to recognize the noise as it rang again.</p><p>She didn’t have an intercom in her boxy, outdated flat, but she didn’t have to. There was only one person who would visit her so late, though she didn’t know why. She pressed the button to let Daisy up.</p><p> It seemed to take Daisy a long time to get to the third floor. Basira set the kettle to boil and it hummed in the quiet kitchen, indistinguishable from the vibration of her unease in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she’d been incorrect to let the visitor in so cavalierly. She had to remember that things that imitated people long enough to press apartment buzzers might have interest in her.</p><p>She flicked the curtain of her kitchen window and found Daisy’s white car in the parking lot. Over the lot, the orange streetlights hovered.  They always made her think of tractor beams projected from alien ships; at any second the cars might be lifted into the air. Bare trees rattling in the wind marked the edges of what she could see in the darkness. Clouds moved rapidly over the moon like black gauze.</p><p>When she’d pulled up behind that car the night she’d stopped Daisy from killing Sims, the passenger side door hung open, and the red tail lights were still on, and a signal light was blinking, the same colour as the light that contoured the car’s roof now. She’d gotten out of her truck and could hear, perhaps too far away, a sound of pleading, made up of indistinguishable noises.</p><p>She and Daisy had been lovers for a year on the day when she caught her with a pocketknife to a sobbing man’s throat. <em>Lovers. </em>A pretty pretentious word, but there didn’t seem to be another one. <em>Partners </em>had another meaning for them, and anyways, Daisy wouldn’t have liked it. Basira didn’t think they’d ever cohabitate, or own a cat. She would have felt free to fuck other people if she wanted to, though her life was too complicated to begin with. She had never asked if Daisy was doing so. But they did love each other.  Surely there wasn’t much else to it. The first time they slept together, Daisy made herself invisible the next morning, and apologized to Basira in an email. <em>I lost control. I’ll submit a request to be re-assigned. </em>Basira caught her in one of the back offices of the station and told her, if you’ve already lost control why stop now?</p><p>Somebody knocked on the door. Basira picked up her gun, checked it over, flipped the safety and put her eye to the peephole. She reeled back and swung the door open. Daisy stumbled through. Her short pale hair plastered back against her skull, her small face, her tank top, her pants, all the way down to her sneakers—everything was red and wet and slick with blood.</p><p>“What is this?” Basira said, still too shocked to make it completely sympathetic. She still hadn’t put down her gun.</p><p>Daisy’s eyes met hers, pale out of the scarlet, and her gaze was horribly flat, her normal spirit blasted away. Her voice was a wrecked mumble. “It’s not mine.”</p><p>“Oh, Christ,” Basira said. She closed the door behind Daisy, who didn’t move, but slumped into the door of the coat closet, breathing with a shudder. “Is something coming?”</p><p>“No.” After another few gulps of air Daisy slowly guided herself down against the wall into a crouch. Blood streaked the door. “I’m fine. It’s dead. It’s over.”</p><p>“You’re sure about that?”</p><p>Daisy shot her a look of irritation that actually relieved Basira. At least she was still in there. For a second, in the strange atmosphere, her face had looked like something she’d put on over emptiness. “How sure can you be?”</p><p>“Did anyone see you walking up here?”</p><p>It took a second for Daisy to answer. “No. I—you’re right. I shouldn’t have come. Fuck. Basira, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“That’s not what I meant. Goddamnit. Come on, up we go.” She gently wrapped an arm around Daisy’s shoulders and helped her up to standing. Basira was wearing a white button-down shirt, which came away with a red print of Daisy on it. Well, many things could be irreparably ruined, and a shirt was the least of them. Where else could Daisy have gone? She thought of her trudging, alone, back to the Institute. She’d use her card to get in after hours and then drag herself dripping through the concrete hallways with their hostile fluorescents. She’d strip and shower in the dingy bathroom. She’d fold herself into bed, still alone, her mind black like the head of a burnt match. “No, this was the right place to come. What happened?”</p><p>Daisy shook her head. Basira maintained an implacable gaze on her, knowing that some things had to be spoken of immediately or they’d never be spoken at all. But Daisy didn’t speak, even after Basira shook her a little, and asked again, and when Daisy pushed her off and wiped her bloody mouth with the back of her bloody hand, Basira decided she couldn’t apply any more pressure for fear of going too far. But as she started to step away Daisy grabbed her arm. “I’m fine, I swear. I just...it was a long chase. Longer than I wanted. I was so tired. My legs almost gave out. I knew if they did...” Her lips compressed and Basira could feel her hands shaking, although she gauged, from the expression on Daisy’s face, that it wasn’t leftover fear at all, but the sickening dregs of adrenaline. “And then it wouldn’t stop bleeding like this. And—screaming at me. But it’s done. I did it.”</p><p>“What was it?”</p><p>“Ask Bouchard, or Sims. What would I know?”</p><p>“Daisy.” Basira gripped both her shoulders. Daisy turned her head at first to avoid looking into her eyes, as though it would burn her, then slowly let her gaze drift back. “You’re fine?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Daisy said. Basira knew she shouldn’t have phrased it like that. It was too easy for Daisy to toss off that <em>Yeah. </em>She should have said, <em>You’re not fine.</em> She should have made Daisy deny her. But as Daisy caught her breath in the hallway Basira could understand the expression on her face, under the blood, a little better, and could see she was steadying. Not fine, but steadying.</p><p>“You idiot,” Basira said, and impulsively pulled her into a hug. Daisy’s arms stayed folded up between them, as if she didn’t want to expose them to attack. Her face, though, tipped into the crook of Basira’s shoulder. It was cold with the slick.</p><p>Daisy made a coughing sound that might have been part of a laugh. “That’s no way to talk to me.”</p><p>At the hint of humour, Basira took Daisy’s chin between her two hands and kissed her, firm with relief. “No, I guess not,” she said.</p><p>They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. Daisy’s breathing was still ragged, and her pupils seemed huge and black. The kettle clicked off distantly in the kitchen. The air felt hot. Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised when Daisy grabbed her face and kissed her back. The kiss was aggressive, open-mouthed, and Daisy pressed up against her, demanding her. For a second she froze, and the taste on Daisy’s tongue filled her mouth with salt and metal shavings. Then she held Daisy away and said, “You need—I don’t know. Sleep.”</p><p>“Please,” Daisy said. Basira had never heard her ask for anything so desperately. Had never heard her beg. “I don’t feel right. I don’t feel human.”</p><p>When Daisy kissed her again Basira let it happen. The smell on her was overpowering, but the repulsion Basira might have felt was crowded out by a base and guttural hunger as Daisy pushed her back against the wall, yanking her by the belt loops. She pressed a knee between Basira’s legs, against the nearly painful tingling rush in her cunt.</p><p>“Off,” Daisy panted, fumbling with Basira’s buttons. Basira took over removing her shirt and Daisy sucked at her neck, sending the hairs on end and shudders rolling down Basira’s spine. Then with a moan, Daisy nipped her with her teeth, harder than normal. Basira rolled against her and gasped, her hands trembling in their motions. She was a little frightened, she realized. It had been a long time since she was frightened of Daisy. She knew her so well, even her temper, even the twisted ruthlessness of her. What you could predict, you could control. Daisy had never fucked her like this—like she wanted to consume her. Yet Basira found she wanted it. Had wanted it for a long time. Wanted to be a body with Daisy, instead of a mind—Daisy, who in some ways was always a body—and she could only achieve that ecstatic and electric state when she was hollowed out by desire and animal action and, yes, fear.  She tore a button taking the shirt off the rest of the way, and Daisy pressed their chests together, so the motion of their breaths competed and Basira could feel Daisy’s hard nipples through the blood-soaked tank top.</p><p>Daisy’s eyes were wild, her hands purposeful and unforgiving as she put her hand up under Basira’s skirt and into her underwear, where it would have been as hot as a wound—why was this the image that came to her, and why didn’t it disgust her? With one hand Daisy rubbed Basira’s clit, with all her fingers, completely slick, not only with her own juices but with the blood.  The other hand she brought up around Basira’s neck, and when Basira gasped, “Yes, please, god, Daisy, choke me,” Daisy pressed. Not all the way—she never did---but enough to make Basira’s breathing thin and whistling. As the pleasure mounted toward orgasm she pressed tighter and tighter. Her control was precise—professional.  She stared into Basira’s eyes and Basira, though she wanted to close them and arch her neck and moan, instead chose to hold her gaze, though she did so with her eyes hazed by pleasure, in a kind of loving insistence, as if this would be the tether that kept Daisy here with her.  She watched Daisy’s expression as it minutely shifted in concentration and hunger, and Daisy watched her fall apart under her hand.</p><p>Basira came brutally against Daisy’s fingers, her cries clicking in her throat from the pressure on it. Daisy removed her hands as the comedown waves washed over Basira. There would be a print on her neck, the pale pressure and the red blood. Basira dazedly brought up her hands to undo Daisy’s jeans, but Daisy brushed them away. “I can’t right now,” she said, almost in a whisper, as if she couldn’t speak any louder, as if she hadn’t spoken in years.</p><p>“I’m not in a rush,” Basira said, gently, thinking she was ashamed.</p><p>“No,” Daisy said. “Can you come again?”</p><p>Basira’s head was still spinning, static in the tips of her fingers and her toes. Nevertheless she nodded, because Daisy’s intense gaze made her feel anything Daisy wanted from her she would open up to give her. So Basira got her skirt off and Daisy got on her knees, and Basira hooked a knee over her shoulder to give her better access. She impulsively put her hands in Daisy’s hair and tugged—the slickness meant her hands nearly came away, and they were coated to the wrist now and tacky with blood. Daisy made a sound that might have been pain or pleasure. The brush of her tongue and mouth on Basira’s clit wasn’t pleasurable yet because she was so sore, but it made her twitch and writhe in the way that was adjacent to pleasure, and it shifted and became hot.</p><p>After some time, Daisy came away from the awkward angle and insisted Basira come down onto the floor with her, during which Basira nearly slipped in the red. On the tiles of the entrance hall, next to the Chelsea boots and sneakers. Daisy kissed Basira’s cunt, gripped her soft thigh with a demanding hand that tightened painfully when Basira’s hips bucked against her mouth, even more so when Basira started to twist and curl her toes against Daisy’s back—Daisy pinned her in place, implacable.</p><p>They didn’t speak to each other at times like this but Basira was thinking, <em>Your mouth feels so good on me. So warm and hungry. </em>Instead she grabbed one of Daisy’s hands, squeezing it until it must have hurt. The nails of Daisy’s other hand sunk in, and the bright pain was a punctuation mark that made Basira cry out and push her cunt into Daisy’s tongue. Daisy took that hand and slid two, three fingers into her; she was open and wet from her first orgasm, and Daisy fucked her  mercilessly. She could hear herself letting out high breaths every time Daisy’s fingers hooked up into her, a feeling like Daisy was so deep in her she would fuck her open, destroy her, turn her into something else. When she came again she ground into Daisy’s mouth and the back of her head squeaked on the ground in the blood as she dragged her hair through it. She was panting, eyes closed, letting it flow over her, as Daisy crawled up her and turned her face with one hand, and kissed her hard, invasively, fucking her mouth with her tongue, her lips wet and fragrant with it. She pulled away and the spit that threaded between their lips was scarlet.</p><p>Now Daisy seemed to have run down, and she lowered her head onto Basira’s chest as Basira caught her breath. After a moment, Basira realized she was gulping in air in a strange way—as if trying not to cry. Alarmed, she said, “Hey, Daisy?” Her lover turned her head only a little so she could meet Basira’s eyes, and looked utterly exhausted, hollowed-out.</p><p>“Oh, Daisy,” Basira said. She started to shift so she could stand and help Daisy to her feet, though she still felt wobbly through her thighs up to her ribcage, but Daisy wouldn’t let her move. After a second, she stilled and exhaled, and ran her hand through Daisy’s wet hair. Both of them were patterned all over with red. As the rush seeped out of her, Basira reflected that Daisy was still completely clothed. They lay there for a while, breathing. Basira paid attention to the rhythm of Daisy’s breath, which would hitch and then smooth out. “What are you thinking?” Basira said.</p><p>Daisy opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it. “What?” Basira said. Daisy shook her head. This time, Basira’s intuition of her lover insisted that she force her to sit up; she kissed her cheek, looked into her closed-off and unyielding face. “I need you to tell me.”</p><p>“You won’t like it,” Daisy said.</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“I think someday you’ll destroy me, or I’ll do you. One or the other. I love you, but I think that’s what will happen.”</p><p>Even a few months ago Basira might have said, <em>Why would you say that? </em>She wouldn’t have been hurt—she knew Daisy too well to think that what she was saying meant they should break up, if they were together, or that Basira had done something wrong. But she would have been annoyed. One didn’t always have to be so cynical, especially in such a fragile moment. Now she couldn’t say anything to it at all. Understanding passed between them.</p><p>Daisy surprised her by going on, though with difficulty. “Sometimes, I feel like I need to have all of you I can before somehow it happens. I just feel...”</p><p>“Yes,” Basira said. After another pause, she said, “It’s cold, and we should shower.”</p><p>“So practical,” Daisy said.</p><p>They stood with the shadow of it on them, but by the time Basira was running the shower and testing it with the back of her hand, they had silently agreed to let the shadow pass on. They didn’t fuck in the shower or as they got ready for bed, although Basira asked Daisy if she wanted to come twice, and both times Daisy shook her head. They were quiet, though they always were, and they passed hands over each other’s skin whenever an opportunity arose. Basira’s bedroom was spare, without adornment. By the time they folded into bed together Daisy was so weary she seemed to fall asleep the instant she pulled her knees up to her chest, before Basira had even turned the light off. She slept like that, on her side with her knees pulled up, which made her look so young.</p><p>Basira hesitated, gazing at her face, in the soft light. She always had a hope that Daisy would talk in her sleep. She wanted to hear what Daisy would say, if she wasn’t afraid, if she didn’t have the wherewithal to defend and fortify herself. This was a perverse violation of Daisy’s trust, and it was good that it never happened. What would she want Daisy to say? <em>I love you?</em> Basira had heard that from her more than once, not all the time, but often enough.</p><p>She supposed then, watching the frown on Daisy’s unusually small and childish mouth, which she retained even in her sleep, that she wanted to hear something that would save them. But if she didn’t have the secret to that, she knew Daisy didn’t. Daisy who was, more than even herself, certainly more than those millions of people who slept soundly out there in the night blessed in their ignorance, transported through her days in a ceaseless rush of obligation and dread, toward whatever fate awaited them, somewhere ahead in the horrible maelstrom of the world.</p><p>Later, she would sometimes be glad that, rather than destroying each other, they had each been destroyed by other things. But other times, she would crave Daisy’s hand on her throat and wished it had happened the way Daisy thought.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i have never posted on ao3 before! but i thought there was no harm in getting this off my hard drive. thank u to any readers! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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